Become One YN?
by rainlady
Summary: Someone actually agrees to become one with Russia!


**~Become One Y/N?~**

* * *

The entire bar froze in the middle of what they were doing as Russia swung in through the doors waving a half-empty bottle of vodka around. It was clear from his even-more-than-usual glassy expression and the disarray of his jacket and scarf that this was probably not the first bottle he'd nipped at since the meeting had let out for the day.

"My comrades!" he drawled cheerfully before dissolving into that unsettling giggle of his.

Behind the bar the bartenders whispered amongst themselves. They were trying to decide if they should enforce the bar's policy of not allowing any outside beverages beside water into the establishment. Once Russia started laughing they quickly, and wisely, abandoned the idea. Clearly this was a man who could do just about anything he wanted.

The room remained tense. Most of the patrons were nations and they knew what was coming. Russia's cheerful grin never faded as his eyes swung around the room looking for his first victim. A few moments later he started giggling as he made his selection and headed towards a corner of the room. No one was surprised to see which nation occupied that corner.

Lithuania shrank back slightly as Russia made a beeline towards his table. He didn't need to worry as Poland, who had gone off to the bar to get them drinks and to talk with America who was sitting there with England and Germany, reappeared and placed himself between Russia and their table. Russia started at him in with the same confusion he often regarded Poland with these days and Poland stared defiantly back. He had one hand on his hip and the other on Russia's chest. If Russia was a bit more sober this might not have ended well for Poland but if there was one thing Poland had gotten good at over the years it was knowing when Russia was safe to cross. Well safer at any rate.

"No!" Poland said sternly.

"But..." Russia said with a slight pout.

"No!" Poland repeated. "He doesn't want to so, like, don't even bother!"

Russia brow crinkled as he contemplated this turn of events. Then his eyes lit up and he regarded Poland with a grin and opened his mouth. Poland quickly cut him off.

"So help me if you, like, ask me to become with you," Poland said. "I'm totally going to, like, hit you over the head with my chair!"

Russia's lips twisted as he contemplated that and then with a giggle he headed off towards the next table. Poland slipped into his chair in a guarding manner in case Russia decided to come back. He didn't need to worry the moment Lithuania was out of his sight Russia promptly forgot about him.

It took Russia about an hour to make a complete circuit of the room. As he approached the bar he was looking considerably less cheerful and more hangdog then he had when he entered the room. He paused near the group sitting there and eyed them carefully. England narrowed his eyes and sent the other nation his best British Empire stare and leaned over to block America from Russia's line of sight. Behind his back America rolled his eyes and leaned around England to get a better view of the action unfolding in front of him. Germany's reaction to being asked was always entertaining, especially when he had a few beers in him.

Russia's eyes flicked over each of them and then without warning he turned his attention to the nation sitting at the end of the bar who was regarding the glass of house wine he'd just been given like it was the greatest crime ever committed against man.

"Become one with me, da?" he asked in a hopeful voice.

Italy blinked in surprise and turned his head slowly to look at Russia. He cocked his head to the side and regarded the nation who was looking down at him with wide eyes and a puppy dog expression carefully. Then an impossibly bright smile lit up his face and he nodded his head eagerly. "Ve - okay I will!"

The room went dead silent with the exception of Germany choking on the sip of beer he'd been in the middle of swallowing. They all regarded Italy with open shock. Normally he was completely terrified of Russia but he was regarding the other nation now with the open, friendly smile he usually reserved for his brother or Germany.

"Uh...da?" Russia repeated in confusion. No one had ever said yes to him before. No one besides Belarus and she didn't count because she was never actually asked in the first place.

"Da!" Italy replied brightly and made a startled noise as Russia gathered him up of the chair and pulled him into an awkward hug. "Maybe it would be easier to become one if my bones weren't quite so broken?" he squeaked.

"Sorry..." Russia muttered as he set Italy back onto his feet with a chagrined look on his face he hesitantly brushed at the front of Italy's now wrinkled suit for a moment before giving up with a frown.

"That's okay," Italy said patting Russia's arm softly. "You were just excited, I am too! So...what do we do now?"

"Uh..." Russia said his brow scrunching as he tried to think about it. "I do not know," he finally admitted after a long moment. "No one has ever said da before."

This admission caused Italy's face to light up even more. "It's been a long time since Italy was first at something so important! Don't worry, we'll can figure out what to do together!"

"O..kay..." Russia said sounding a bit more nervous then anyone would have expected him to.

"Have you lost your mind, damnit?"

Everyone turned to look at Romano who was standing at the table he'd been sharing with Prussia, France and Spain face bright red and furious. Spain reached out a hand and tried to tug him back into his seat but Romano just turned his glare on him causing Spain to inch back in his chair with a wary grin and his hands held up in surrender.

"Not that I know of, brother," Italy said cheerfully, then frowned slightly. "Why are you so red did you get too much sun today?"

"You can't go and become one with that bastard!" Romano growled at his younger brother.

"Why not?" Italy asked, his brow crinkling in confusion. "He asked so politely!"

"It's Russia you idiot," his brother hissed. "He's not polite, he's big and scary...and mean...remember?"

"Well, I suppose so," Italy said looking at Russia who regarded him with a nervous frown like he was expecting Italy to change his mind or have it changed for him at any moment. "He can be both but...maybe it doesn't have to be like that. Maybe he just uses the scariness to hide how sad and lonely is. Maybe if he has a friend he won't be so scary and mean anymore."

The room grew quiet again as the other nation's regarded Italy like he'd just grown two heads in front of them. Had he not only managed to read the atmosphere but made a logical, and probably correct, comment on it? That might just be a more historical event then someone actually agreeing to become one with Russia.

"I'll be your friend Russia," Italy said with a beaming smile sliding his arm through Russia's. Russia blinked down at him in open confusion but didn't seem entirely put out by the suggestion.

Romano didn't seem to find anything logical or good about Italy's response or Russia's reaction to it. He launched himself across his table towards the two nations. There was a loud crash and a flurry of movement that ended with a spilled bowl of bar nuts, one broken chair and a wildly cursing Romano lying on the floor on his stomach being pinned down by Spain and France. Prussia did nothing to help except laugh loudly and give pointers to the other two about how best to hog tie someone.

Italy frowned at his brother's response and shook his head. "Come on," he said to Russia pulling the taller nation back towards the doors. "Let's go talk about this somewhere quieter!"

"Okay..." Russia agreed in a dazed tone. He looked completely shell shocked as Italy pulled him along towards the door.

Everyone watched in stunned silence as the pair left. Then every eye in the room turned and looked at Germany who hunched his shoulders under their collective weight and took another long sip of his beer. Finally Romano, still pinned on the floor, stopped his cursing long enough to blurt out the question that everyone was thinking.

"Aren't you going to do something you Potato Bastard?"

Germany's shoulders hunched over a little more and he took another drink. In the background Prussia stopped taunting Romano and started yelling at him for calling Germany names, there might have also been pretzels used as projectiles as Spain tried to diffuse the situation and France took his turn at goading it along. England settled back into a more normal position against the bar and pinned Germany with a curious expression.

"Not that I'm one to normally agree with Romano," he said. "But shouldn't you go after them?"

"It wouldn't do any good," Germany said with a sigh taking another drink of his beer. "It's useless to try to talk Italy out of something when he's determined to go through with it."

"Even if there's a chance that it'll end in disaster?" England asked.

"Especially if there's a chance that it will end in disaster," Germany said.

"I don't know," America said with a shrug. "Rus seemed like he'd had an awful lot to drink tonight...he probably won't remember anything in the morning."

England pinned America with an irritated glare as the other nation's tone of voice implied that he might just be speaking from personal experience. "He might not remember it but when he wakes up with a very naked, hyperactive Italy next to him in bed he might start demanding answers and you know how he gets when he's hung over..."

"You do have a point," America conceded with a frown, again sounding like he might just be speaking from personal experience.

Germany paused midway through lifting his glass to his lips. He sighed heavily, let the glass fall back to the bar with a thunk and slid off his stool and stalked off towards the door. America watched him go for a moment and then stood up and started to follow. England stopped him with an arm and a disgruntled look.

"Where do you think you're going?" he demanded.

"After him," America answered easily.

"Don't," England warned. "You shouldn't get involved."

"I'm not planning to get involved," America said with a wide grin clapping England on the shoulder. "I just want to watch!"

England winced and rolled his shoulder in pain, America had obliviously used more of his strength then necessary in his excitement. By the time he was pain free and turned to reply he discovered America had disappeared. He groaned and tried to decide if he should follow or not, no good could come from this situation he was sure. He quickly decided to heed his own advice and stay out of it. He turned back to his drink and discovered that it was empty. He eyed the abandoned half filled glasses of America and Germany sitting on either side of him before grimacing at the very thought of their choices in beverages and gestured for a refill of his own.

There as another crash from behind him. England didn't need to turn around to know that Romano had finally managed to get free and had turned to taking his frustration out on Prussia. It sounded like Denmark and Hungary had joined France in egging them along. He sighed and took a big long gulp of the drink that had appeared in front of him.

Just once he'd like to be involved in a world meeting that ended normally.

* * *

The End

Note: Anon left it open ended so that the reader could fill in the blanks of what happens after the group leaves the room. However if you're interested in what I personally think happens...I think all four of them wake up the next morning in the same bed in a big ol' pile of intertwining body parts. ;-) Because to me...that sounds really hot.


End file.
